


Et litteræ signatæ ipsius oscula

by LakeWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Banishment, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Forgiveness, Ghosts, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, One Shot, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Second Kiss, Three Broomsticks, sunshine and rainbows, uncomplicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeWitch/pseuds/LakeWitch
Summary: Harry Potter is working hard to rebuild Hogwarts in time for start of term. When a screeching, horrible-looking ghost appears, Professor McGonagall asks Harry to banish it to the afterlife with Draco Malfoy.But the last thing Harry expects the banishing spell to include is ... a kiss.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 210





	Et litteræ signatæ ipsius oscula

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for:  
> -a bit of swearing  
> -a spooky ghost

“Eiii-AHHHHHH!” 

Harry’s blood ran cold, all the hairs stood up on his arms. In an instant, his wand pointed towards the sound. A mutilated, half-formed ghost—barely human-looking—hovered in the Astronomy Tower doorway, just floating in the air. Its mouth, or approximation of a mouth, wide open and gaping and emitting the eeriest of shrieks. 

The broken north wall Harry’d been repairing went forgotten, and levitating bricks clambered to the ground. 

Harry swallowed, and lowered his wand a fraction. Despite the disturbing sight, ghosts were not dangerous. He looked around at his classmates, Malfoy was staring at the thing, his face even paler (if that was possible). Malfoy gulped, and his eyes flashed to Harry’s—wide and unreadable. 

The screaming cut out in a flash, leaving a faint ringing in Harry’s ears. But still the ghost hovered there, staring out at them with hollow eyes. 

“What the fuck,” said Seamus, from Malfoy’s left. And under his breath, “That’s bloody well spooky.” 

Hurried footsteps echoed up the stairs. 

“What—” started McGonagall, out of breath, appearing in the doorway behind the ghost. Evidently the noise had reached her even from a flight below. She glared sternly through the white wispy body to them. “Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, banish this ghost. We can’t have it frightening the First Years once class starts. Mr Finnigan, I need you down here for a tricky cursed chair.” She turned to disappear down the stairs, muttering under her breath, “We are traumatised enough as it is, can’t have _that_ screaming at the children.” 

Seamus glanced at Harry, locked eyes, and sent his best ‘good luck’ expression. He pushed past the ghost with a massive shiver, and disappeared down the stairs. 

It was just Harry and Malfoy, then. 

Now, how does one banish a ghost? 

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was still decidedly pale and staring at the ghost without moving. 

“You alright?” Harry asked tentatively. It felt a bit weird to ask, since it was Malfoy and all. But … it was the decent thing to do all the same. The war was over. They were all rebuilding Hogwarts together. Harry was consciously putting in an effort to get along, despite the past. 

Malfoy blinked, seeming to come back into himself. “Yeah.” 

“So how do we do this?” 

Malfoy turned to him, not quite meeting his eyes. Merlin—the war had sure changed the man. Sure, it had changed everyone in some way but … Malfoy was so … well, ‘tame’ wouldn’t be the right word, would it? But something like that. “You haven’t banished a ghost before.” It should’ve been a question, but Malfoy’s voice was so flat. 

“No.” 

He cleared his throat, and fished around in his pocket for something. “You’ll be the anchor, then.” 

“Okay.” 

Malfoy produced a piece of chalk from his pocket and kneeled down. He busied himself drawing complex shapes right onto the floor. He checked over his work, and then drew a large circle, more than encompassing the symbols. It was large enough to seat five people inside. “Sit beside me.” He patted a spot to his left. 

Ah. Harry lowered himself to sit cross-legged beside Malfoy. He stared at the symbols, wondering what they meant. 

“You’ll place your right hand on my left shoulder as I work. Got that?” 

He nodded. 

“Don’t lift your hand off until it’s all done.” 

“Okay.” 

“And …" He trailed off. Harry glanced at him, to find he seemed a bit pinker than he had before. Malfoy cleared his throat again. “Just … follow my lead.” 

“Yeah.” Harry blinked rapidly. He got it. Malfoy didn’t need to keep drilling his point home. Harry could and would follow instructions. 

Malfoy exhaled—long and heavy. “Alright, this will not take too long.” 

“Okay.” 

Malfoy took a moment to stare at the symbols on the ground. “Place your hand on my shoulder now.” 

Right. Harry did, he rested his right hand lightly on Malfoy’s robed and slender shoulder. 

Harry felt Malfoy’s body shift underneath his hand as Malfoy pointed his wand at the ghost, who was still facing them with mouth gaping open. Its ripped, transparent robes billowed around it. “Ad locum manes requiescere,” Malfoy said softly. He lowered his wand to point at the centre of the circle. “Pax vobis.” He waved it in an intricate pattern in the air. He painted sparkling white whorls of light in the space above the centre of the circle. It was rather beautiful, Harry thought. “Mors vincit omnia.” 

Harry felt vibrations underneath his hand—something was happening to Malfoy. 

“Mors vincit omnia.” 

The vibrations intensified, causing Harry’s hand to tingle uncomfortably. 

The painted symbol in the air grew bigger and bigger, coming closer and closer to their faces—starting to fill the width of the circle. 

Malfoy waved his wand. “Mors vincit omnia.” The painted symbols fell to the ground, overlapping the chalked symbols in an instant. The chalk began to glow golden—brighter and brighter, until the sparkly white wispy shapes were overtaken by its warm yellow light. 

A wind picked up, ruffling Harry’s hair, and filling his ears with its gentle roar. 

Malfoy turned to Harry, and placed his wand hand on Harry’s right shoulder. He cast Harry a warning look, like: not to try anything funny. Which Harry thought was quite uncalled for—he’d been very well-behaved here by anyone’s standards. “Et litteræ signatæ ipsius oscula,” Malfoy called, louder now, to be heard over the wind. He said it while staring straight into Harry’s eyes with a neutral expression. 

He gripped harder onto Harry’s shoulder, and leaned in towards Harry’s face. Harry could only guess what Malfoy was going to do ... but he didn’t want to mess up the spell by asking. 

Harry watched Malfoy’s face get closer and closer to his, so that his entire field of vision was pale skin and silvery unreadable eyes. Merlin ... those light colourless eyes were off-putting. Like ... _too_ much ... too much of something. Harry felt himself stiffen. He and Malfoy were never this close—at least, not when they weren’t fighting. 

Malfoy’s eyes fluttered closed. (Odd.) His warm breath flitted over Harry’s face. 

The space between them felt charged. Electric. It must be the spell. 

Malfoy’s lips found Harry’s. 

“Mmrph,” Harry blurted against Malfoy’s mouth. 

Malfoy was ... kissing him. 

_Kissing him_. 

Harry’s face felt very hot. It might be the spell. It might be embarrassment. Blushing. And all he could see was white-blond eyelashes and closed eyelids. 

And Malfoy’s lips were impossibly soft. Just ... just applying a steady pressure against him. His breaths came out in a steady rhythm against Harry’s cheek. Harry’s breaths, on the other hand, were probably more erratic, but he wasn’t concentrating on that right then. His mind was screaming: _Malfoy is kissing me._

But then ... he wasn’t. Malfoy pulled back, and, without looking at Harry, turned to survey their work. 

Harry just stared at him in befuddlement—aghast at how impossibly calm and collected the man could look after that. Like he hadn’t just suddenly kissed his childhood arch-nemesis out of seemingly nowhere. 

“It worked,” Malfoy said, with a satisfied nod, dropping his hand from Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry, wide-eyed, looked around them, removing his own hand from Malfoy tentatively. The symbols had disappeared from the floor. The ghost was nowhere in sight. And the wind was gone—in fact, it was _too_ quiet. 

“You kissed me,” he blurted out, all in one breath. It warranted an explanation. Surely. 

Malfoy cleared his throat and stood up. He made for the door and said, “It’s part of the spell.” 

He left Harry there alone, sitting cross-legged on the hard floor and terribly unsettled.

~~

At the day’s end, the returning Eighth Years gathered in the Slytherin common room, as they did every night. Slytherin had been the least damaged from the battle, so McGonagall had placed them all there. Harry sort of liked it. He liked the stillness of it—the feeling of being burrowed down out of the way. Safe. And he liked to watch the lake through the common room window—it was almost … meditative. He’d always prefer Gryffindor of course, but Slytherin wasn’t so bad.

As usual, Harry and Hermione had settled into a couple stuffed chairs in the back corner, a bit away from everyone else. It felt private. But this time Harry had trouble concentrating on what Hermione was saying. He was trying not to stare across the room at Draco Malfoy, who was very quietly reading a thick book by the hearth. Malfoy tucked a strand of white-blond hair behind an ear, and turned a page. 

“—Ron sent a few samples for us to try out. I’m sure it’s not really my thing. Something about a bouncing ball that never quits. Do you want …" She paused. “Harry, are you even listening?” 

“Mm,” Harry mumbled, turning to Hermione sheepishly. “Sorry, what?” 

She tilted her head, studying his face. “What happened?” 

He blinked rapidly, unable to keep the sensory memory of Malfoy’s lips on his own from flooding his mind. “Er …" He felt a blush creep up again, and his heart hammered. What was wrong with him? 

“ _Harry_.” 

“Sorry,” he said. “Er, _Hermione_ …" 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you know about ghost banishing?” 

Hermione stared at him for a beat. “Yes,” she said carefully. “Why?” 

“Ah, well … I had my first today, and, er …" 

She nodded. “It’s an interesting spell, isn’t it?” 

“Ah, sure, just … um …" Why was it so hard to bring up the kiss? 

“Who did you perform it with?” 

He closed his eyes. “Malfoy,” he mumbled. 

“Ah. So you kissed.” She said it so nonchalantly—like it wasn’t an earth-shattering concept. 

“Hermione …" He covered his face with his hands. “Was that really … was it necessary to have to …" 

She patted his knee and smiled. “A kiss can be quite powerful, especially in conjunction with magic. It binds and seals. So, yes, it was rather necessary. That is, unless you wanted the whole spell to unravel and to start again from the top.” 

Harry groaned. “He could’ve warned me.” 

“Ah. Well, perhaps he assumed you knew. Or, perhaps it would’ve been a bit embarrassing to explain out loud.” 

He shot her a pained looked, which just made her laugh. “Oh Harry. You’ll be alright. It’s just a kiss.”

~~

If it was ‘just a kiss’, why was he thinking about it all the time?

He knew he was looking at Malfoy too much. 

He knew it, and couldn’t stop it for too long. His eyes just kept finding him. As he wondered … just wondered. 

“ _What_?” Malfoy demanded, interrupting their work in the third-floor corridor. He marched up to Harry, looking like he was nearing the end of his rope. “ _What_?” 

Harry took a step back. 

“Why do you keep staring at me?” His eyes flashed dangerously. 

Harry shrugged. “I’m not,” he said lamely. 

“You are.” Malfoy sized him up with a frown. “And you need to tell me why right now.” 

Harry realised his mouth was open, and promptly closed it. He didn’t know what to say … 

They stared at each other—Malfoy sternly, Harry helplessly. 

“Ugh!” Malfoy uttered. “You’re driving me mental.” He turned away, like he couldn’t stand to look at Harry a second longer, and stormed away. 

Harry swallowed, staring at the spot he’d last seen Malfoy’s back before it’d disappeared around a bend. Then he sighed and resumed his cleaning spell on a patch of stubbornly scorched stone. 

He felt terribly wrong-footed, and he didn’t know how to get it all back right-footed.

~~

At the end of the day, back in the common room, Harry found himself glancing at Malfoy some more. Not … not all the time like some creep. Just ... once and a while.

He was pretty, for a boy, Harry decided. He sort of ... glowed. Maybe it was because he was pale. But … he just stood out. In a room full of people, he sucked in all the light. 

Harry gave his head a shake. He needed to forget it. Forget Draco Malfoy, and forget a kiss that was only for a spell and nothing else. 

He sighed. 

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked over the book she held. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out in a huff. 

The corner of her mouth lifted. She looked fond. “What’s on your mind?” 

The blush came back. Harry couldn’t help it. 

Hermione saw it, mulled it over in an instant, and began to nod. “It wasn’t just a kiss for you,” she said quietly. 

Er, damn … would he say that? He looked at her in surprise. Merlin, sometimes Harry could swear Hermione was better at Divination than she lets on. 

She smiled softly at him. “Maybe you two need to have a conversation.” 

Harry looked over to said-person. Said-person looked up from his book and shot Harry a warning glare. Harry looked away quickly, back to Hermione, sighing. “We hate each other,” he said miserably. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Clearly that is not the case for you.” 

Harry shrugged, an unhappy sort of shrug. 

She sighed, and reached over to pat his knee. “Oh, Harry.” 

“Feelings are complicated.” 

Hermione smiled, betraying a hint of amusement which Harry did not quite appreciate. “That they are, that they are.”

~~

“Well?” Malfoy demanded. “Are you going to tell me today?”

Harry pulse quickened, and he didn’t know why. He wasn’t _afraid_ of Draco Malfoy. This was stupid. He was getting tired of it—tired of being off-kilter. Hermione’s words _maybe you two need to have a conversation_ echoed in his mind. 

So Harry lowered the brick he was levitating and turned to Malfoy head-on. “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.” 

Malfoy froze. 

Harry froze. He’d actually said that out loud. Oh, Merlin … So Harry opened his mouth to try to explain, and blurted out: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It just keeps playing over and over in my head. And … I dunno, I just keep looking at you. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m being weird.” 

Malfoy just stared. 

“I’ll, uh …" He paused to sigh, and then shot Malfoy a strained smile. “I’ll get over it. I might need a moment, but I will … get over it. I think.” 

Malfoy started blinking. Blinking a lot. 

“Sorry,” Harry said again, for good measure. His face was very hot. God … he was an embarrassment. 

“Why are you …" Malfoy started. He licked his lips. “Why are you thinking about that?” 

Harry shrugged helplessly. “Thought it was nice, I guess.” 

“Nice,” Malfoy repeated, rather neutrally. 

Harry winced. Maybe ‘nice’ wasn’t the word. “Better than nice.” 

“Better than nice.” 

Harry shrugged again. Malfoy should probably drop it now, he implored Malfoy to drop it now, before Harry could embarrass himself any worse than he already had. 

Malfoy started blinking again. “Do you …” He cleared his throat. “Are you …" 

“What?” 

“Are you attracted …” His cheeks pinkened. “To me?” 

It was Harry’s turn to blink too much. “Er, ah … sure. I mean, yeah. You’re … well, anyone would say you’re …" 

Malfoy just stared at him like he was an erumpent in a purple tutu. 

Harry stared back, unsure of what to do here. 

Malfoy’s pink blush deepened to red. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?” 

“Oh,” Harry breathed out. “Um, okay. Yeah.” 

Malfoy nodded slowly, still staring at Harry. He cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away. “Ah, well, best get back to work.” 

Harry nodded, even though Malfoy couldn’t see it. “Right.”

~~

That evening in the common room, Harry couldn’t keep a smile from his face.

He glanced at Malfoy, sat in his usual chair with a book. Malfoy looked up, saw the smile on Harry’s mouth. Harry watched the thinly-veiled surprise flit over his face, watched the corners of Malfoy’s lips turn up too, and how he tried to bite back the smile, ducking his head down towards his book. But Harry saw it—saw that smile. And it only made Harry smile wider. He couldn’t stop— 

“Harry,” said Hermione. 

“Mm?” he uttered without looking. His heart was all fluttery. He felt … warm. In his chest. 

She sighed, a bit exasperated but amused. “I see you two talked.” 

He grinned, remembering. “We’re going to Hogsmeade tomorrow.” 

Hermione laughed—breathy and surprised and pleased. “Well. I’m glad.” She leant over and laid a hand on Harry’s arm. “I hope you have a wonderful time.”

~~

Malfoy cleared his throat, as they strolled side-by-side past Hogsmeade shop windows. He’d stuffed his hands into the pockets of grey, pressed trousers. Harry wondered if Malfoy was very warm with the long sleeves and all. Harry was—he'd had to roll up the sleeves on his navy-blue button-down. It was the height of summer but, somehow, he didn’t think a t-shirt and shorts were proper attire here. And evidently Malfoy had thought the same, because they were both wearing nice trousers and nice shirts.

While glancing at the latest Honeydukes display, Malfoy asked, “Ah, would you like to go to Madam Puddifoot’s?” 

“Oh God, no.” 

Malfoy let out a surprise laugh, turning to him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Sorry, it’s just … I hate it there.” He shivered, thinking about the worst date in history: his and Cho Chang’s. The pink. The frills. The tears. “Reminds me of Dolores Umbridge.” 

Malfoy huffed another laugh. “Fair enough. It is the best date place in Hogsmeade, though.” 

_Date place_. 

“Three broomsticks,” Harry blurted out. 

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. “A pub?” 

He shrugged, squinting against the sun beating down on them. “It’d be quiet today. And the food’s good.” 

Malfoy considered this. “Well, alright.” 

They pushed through the doors to the refreshingly cool Three Broomsticks. After Harry’s eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, Harry waved at Madam Rosmerta. She nodded back, but lifted a brow at Harry’s choice of company. He smiled in response as they approached to place their food and drink orders. 

They settled into a quiet two-person table by one of the few windows. There were only two other patrons, eating quietly on the other side of the pub. 

“Can I start by saying that I’m sorry?” Malfoy said, worrying his bottom lip with his front teeth. 

“Oh. Well, I mean—” This was not what Harry had expected. He was wholly unprepared. 

Malfoy held up a palm. “Let me just say it. Please. I’m sorry I hurt you and your friends. I was foolish and proud and cruel and …” He cleared his throat. “And it is inexcusable. The war was a rude awakening. I no longer saw my father’s beliefs as law, nor did I disillusion myself any longer. About Pureblood superiority. About my father’s skewed ideals. About Voldemort’s ...” He sighed heavily. “Well, his everything. I was a fool to ever believe he was anything but sick and depraved and … evil.” He rubbed an invisible speck of dust off the table. He lowered his voice, “I’m sorry it took seeing a professor murdered in front of me to realise it.” 

Harry sucked in a breath. “I’m … sorry.” 

Malfoy laughed, a dry laugh. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

He tried to smile. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that … but … I’m glad you survived it.” 

Malfoy mirrored the tentative smile. “Well … I survived it thanks to you,” Malfoy said quietly. He exhaled slow. “So, we’ve done the ‘I’m sorry’, and now I should thank you.” He searched Harry’s eyes. “You saved my life.” 

“And you saved mine,” Harry said softly. “You didn’t identify me then, in the Manor.” 

They looked at each other for a moment, contemplating each other. Their pasts. Their presents. How far they’d come. What they’d had to overcome. 

“I’m sorry about the bathroom. Sixth year,” Harry said. 

Malfoy’s expression did not change. 

“I didn’t know what the spell did. I can’t believe I hurt you like that, I could’ve—” Malfoy held up his palm, and Harry clamped his mouth shut. 

“I forgive you.” 

Harry took a breath. In. And out. 

“Do you … forgive me?” Malfoy asked, more hesitantly. 

“Yes,” Harry said. Quite decidedly so. 

Malfoy smiled. He seemed relieved. Harry felt a bit relieved himself. “Well … that was a heavy conversation to start a date with.” 

Harry laughed. The word ‘date’ did something to him. Got his heartrate speeding. “Yes. Should we talk about Quidditch now or something?” 

“Definitely. What do you think about the Biggs-Tennyson trade?” 

As they launched into an impassioned discussion of the trade, Madam Rosmerta brought over their hot meals. They debated who had the greatest odds of winning this season (Malfoy thought the Falmouth Falcons, but he was sorely mistaken—it was obviously much more likely to be the Montrose Magpies). 

While talk of Quidditch died down naturally, and their stomachs were full of good food, Madam Rosmerta brought them fresh drinks. Hot tea for Malfoy, a butterbeer for Harry. 

Harry rubbed a thumb over the condensation of his glass, making a streak. “Er, I’m just curious but … what would’ve happened if I’d dropped my hand from your shoulder during that spell?” 

Malfoy shrugged. “Without someone tethering me to the world of the living, I’d’ve been sucked into the afterlife.” 

“Oh. Shit.” 

The edge of Malfoy’s mouth quirked up, but he said nothing. 

“So … you really had to trust me there, huh?” 

“You’re the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Potter. You’re the very epitome of trustworthy.” 

Harry blinked at him. That seemed like a compliment. “Oh,” he said breathlessly. 

Malfoy smiled slightly, and took a sip of his tea. 

“So, have you, uh, done that spell a lot?” 

Malfoy lowered his mug. “Not a lot, no. But enough to be comfortable with casting it.” 

“Ah, so, you would’ve kissed a bunch of people then.” Merlin … Harry couldn’t believe he’d just blurted that out. 

Malfoy laughed, proper laughed. He’d never done that before with Harry. Harry … quite liked it. “Maybe a few people.” 

“Ah. Right.” 

Both of Malfoy’s slender pale hands wrapped around his mug as he leant forward, just slightly. “Usually it doesn’t mean anything.” Malfoy’s expression took on a new intensity. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked under his breath, staring straight into Malfoy’s unwavering eyes. 

The edge of Malfoy’s mouth lifted up a bit. God, Harry liked these new expressions. So much better than smirks and scowls. “Yes.” Malfoy leant forward more, almost to the centre of the table. His gaze fell to Harry’s mouth. 

Harry felt himself leaning forward too, just a little. His heartrate picked up speed. 

“But kissing you was something …" he trailed off. 

“What?” 

“Something extraordinary.” 

_Oh_. 

One of Malfoy’s hands broke away from his mug and reached for Harry’s. That soft hand carried with it some of the tea’s heat, as it inserted gently into Harry’s palm. Malfoy tugged slightly towards himself, as a subtle hint to lean in further. So, Harry did, and Malfoy closed the space between their mouths. 

Ah … Harry could sigh—happy sigh. It was like having held his breath for too long, and now he could release it—could release all the tension he held. It was like coming back to something he could’ve lost. But he didn’t want to lose it … he wanted it. Wanted. It. 

This kiss was different, because it wasn’t a surprise, because Harry knew he wanted it this time. 

For someone with such hard edges, such hidden depths and a history of hurting and being hurt, Malfoy was surprisingly _soft_. 

Malfoy broke away first. He smiled like he wanted to hide just how happy he was, but couldn’t—couldn’t quite reign it in. His eyes sparkled as they met Harry’s. “What are we doing?” 

Harry had to laugh. “God I don’t know. Going on dates and kissing in public?” He laughed again. Merlin, he was … he didn’t even know. This was all new territory. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” Malfoy brushed his index finger over Harry’s knuckles. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked breathily. “I didn’t know I wanted it until I … until we kissed.” 

Malfoy just smiled. 

“This is nice.” 

“Yes, it’s easier than I thought it’d be.” 

“What did you think this date would be like?” 

Malfoy glanced away towards the bar. “I worried we wouldn’t know what to talk about. Or we’d find something to argue about, since … well, that was what we always did.” 

Harry nodded. “I guess we’ve grown up a bit.” 

“War does that, I suppose.” 

Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other. 

“Well, what should we do next?” Malfoy asked. 

He suspected it didn’t matter much what they did. Harry was … _huh_ … happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ❤️
> 
> This whole idea came from reading up on the magical uses of kisses—how they have powerful emotional energy for various uses. They can seal ("sealed with a kiss"), they can add loving positive energy to a spell, etc.  
> So I thought: how can I make this drarry? And here you have it ❤️


End file.
